


Pomp and Circumstance

by Jael_Lyn



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-09
Updated: 2014-06-09
Packaged: 2018-02-04 01:15:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1761577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jael_Lyn/pseuds/Jael_Lyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After TsbyBS, what happens when graduation day rolls around?  And it's graduation season, so why not?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pomp and Circumstance

> **Pomp & Circumstance**  
>  By [Jael Lyn](mailto:jael_lyn@hotmail.com)  
>  May 2000
>
>> Jim Ellison sighed in exasperation. Going on a short vacation shouldn't be this much trouble. It had seemed so straightforward; visit the storage area, dig out the camping and fishing gear, make a grocery run and hit the road. Sandburg must have moved stuff around down here. Everything he looked for seemed to be buried deep under something else. As he rooted around, he'd managed to cover the available floor space with boxes and bundles. He couldn't take an unimpeded step without tripping.
>> 
>> He stared around him at this sea of chaos. As he caught the glimpse of sleeping bag, he realized that at least two more boxes needed to be shifted en-route. He started to grab one and quickly set it down with a groan, grabbing at his back. He'd been off balance and hadn't anticipated that much weight. As he stretched the abused muscles, it dawned on him that most of the offending boxes weren't recognizable. Puzzled and irritated, he pulled out a pocketknife and slit the tape sealing the nearest carton, then a second and a third. Jim's pace slowed as confusion with more than a hint of guilt replaced his anger.
>> 
>> Jim suddenly felt very tired and sank to a seat on one of the piled boxes. Slowly, he began to pull objects out of the open containers. Many he recognized. Sensitive fingertip traced the edge of one particular oversized volume with a leather cover. He remembered the day he'd first seen it so clearly. Sandburg, nearly bouncing with excitement, pulling stray bills out of the pockets of his scruffy jeans, crowing about making the last lay-away payment on this much desired book. For days afterwards, his anthropologist friend had settled into an absorbed fog, occasionally reading some fascinating passage aloud to his totally bemused roommate. Any teasing aside, Jim always treasured Blair Sandburg, the scholar, taking both pride and pleasure in his quirky genius. Box after box was filled with these treasures. 
>> 
>> Jim replaced the books and folders he had removed and folded the cardboard cartons closed. When had Sandburg done this, and how had the vaunted Detective Ellison missed it? This wasn't a storage area. It like standing by a grave. Somehow, the anticipated fishing trip had lost all its allure.
>> 
>> By the time Jim had climbed several flights of stairs and arrived at the doorway of the loft, he already knew that the Volvo was gone along with its owner. Driven by a clear vision of his own shortcomings, Jim cast any concerns of honoring his friend's privacy aside. Standing in the middle of Blair's small room, he began to realize just how out of touch he was. The room could have belonged to a stranger. Familiar books, folders, artifacts were all gone, apparently now residing in the boxes in the basement. The barren shelves were cluttered with the trapping of a new profession - handcuffs, Blair's shoulder holster, an empty clip, a department issue Kevlar vest. Compared to Sandburg's early days as Ellison's roommate, it seemed neat and....sterile. Another life had been packed away, replaced by another that seemed somehow inadequate by comparison.
>> 
>> Jim's attention was drawn to the small desk. It was covered with cards and small packages. Jim skimmed his friend's carefully written correspondence. Congratulations...I'm so proud of you...you'll always value the education you've worked so hard for...can't be there... have a great time...drink a glass of champagne for me...wishing you continued success.... At least twenty cards and gifts in different states of preparation littered the desk; each matched with graduation announcements and party invitations. Former students, hoping to share this moment with a beloved and respected teacher. Apparently they would all be disappointed. Jim noted the date on one of the elaborate announcements from Rainier. Blair had volunteered to pull a double shift on that particular date. Well, Jim thought ruefully, that's one way to cover without anyone catching on. The tactic had certainly fooled the sentinel roommate and partner.
>> 
>> "I'm sure you have a reason for being in here. Want to enlighten me?" The voice, though familiar, gave Jim a start. Blair was leaning up against the door jamb, looking amused. So where were the damn senses when they might be useful? "Sorry, man. Didn't mean to scare you. First time in forever that the Guide surprised the Sentinel." Blair was trying to look casual as he dumped his packages on the futon, but Jim could tell he was not pleased. May as well face the music.
>> 
>> "I apologize. I shouldn't be in here, and I've invaded your privacy. There's no excuse. I'd like to explain, though." Blair had plopped down next to his packages. His face was unexpressive and not the least bit encouraging, but at least he hadn't kicked Jim out of the room or stormed out himself.
>> 
>> "I found your books," Jim blurted out. Not that the statement exactly made sense in the current context, and he got no answer from Sandburg. "I felt so bad, like you had packed up part of your soul and thrown it in the trash." Jim shuffled. He hated this. How many times could he treat Sandburg like this before he quit giving him another chance? "Damn, that's a lousy reason for invading your privacy."
>> 
>> Blair kept his seat on the futon, and shook his head wearily. "Jim, we've been through this. I have a new career. I want to work with you. If I can move on, so can you."
>> 
>> Jim snagged the desk chair with his foot and sat down, facing his partner with his elbows resting over the chair back."Sandburg, you can read me better than anyone on the planet, but it cuts both ways. If it wasn't painful, you wouldn't need to pack up everything that says 'anthropology' and get it out of sight. You wouldn't need to invent reasons to miss graduation." Despite his best efforts, Jim's voice cracked. "You should be the one getting the degree, going through the ceremony. I should be sitting in a crappy folding chair, yanking at my tie, listening to 47 repeats of Pomp and Circumstance, while you get the credit and the career you always wanted. God, I am so sorry. Sorry for everything."
>> 
>> Every fiber of Jim's body wanted to dash from the room. Instead he stayed rooted, both wanting Blair to answer and dreading what he might say. He felt like a guilty schoolboy, standing in the Principal's Office. He felt Blair's stare and finally met it. Sandburg scooted over on the futon and motioned him over. He didn't speak until Jim had pushed aside some clutter and was settled.
>> 
>> "You're not completely wrong. I was avoiding graduation. And I did pack up my books and the other stuff because it was hard to always walk in and see them here. What you need to understand is that I didn't throw them away. I put them away, just to get some space."
>> 
>> "I officially don't get it, Chief. Try again, okay?"
>> 
>> Blair sighed. "If you break your leg, why do you get a cast and crutches?"
>> 
>> "Well, duh, Sandburg. To give it time to heal."
>> 
>> "Exactly. I still need a crutch, but it won't be forever. When it isn't so raw, I'll read anthro for pleasure and enjoy a graduation. It's just too soon. It takes time, Jim. Don't be impatient with me."
>> 
>> "Impatient?" Jim was horrified. "That sounds like I blame you, and I don't."
>> 
>> "No, but you blame yourself. You want it to be better, and it makes you uncomfortable and frustrated that you can't fix it. It runs counter to the Blessed Protector instinct. If I can leave the hurt, you can leave the guilt. If not tomorrow, then the day after. Or the day after that."
>> 
>> They sat in silence. Jim felt the sick tightness in his chest ease just a bit. "I don't suppose a pizza would get me off the hook here?" 
>> 
>> Blair snickered. "A pizza will get you off the hook if you help me wrap all those gifts. I make extraordinarily bad square corners. All my stuff looks like it was wrapped by refugees while riding in the back of a ox cart. It's embarrassing."
>> 
>> "You're not mad?"
>> 
>> "Yes, Ellison, I'm mad. You dug through my stuff and read my correspondence. You're barely redeemed by the fact that you were motivated by concern, and the fact that we're going to go to the best place in town, order the gooiest, cheesiest pizza ever made and enjoy ourselves." Blair stood and headed for the door. Peeking back around the corner at Jim, he added, "Did I mention that you also have to hum Pomp and Circumstance while I drive the truck?"
>> 
>> "Sandburg!"
>> 
>> "The wrapping paper is under the desk, and so is the tape." Blair is still laughing when he called from the other room, "I'll go find your keys."


End file.
